


Programmed And Damned

by cupnoodlesbabe



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Androids, Angst and Feels, Deviancy, Deviants, F/M, Fluff, Hurt, Love, Romance, Slow Burn, Software Instability
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-03 16:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15822768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupnoodlesbabe/pseuds/cupnoodlesbabe
Summary: Being an android is hard.Being a Deviant is harder.But being an android who was originally made for combat turning Deviant while in the midst of a war is proven quite harder, especially with a Deviant Hunter whose programmed life motto is never fail.You are a combat android forced by your wicked owner to participate in an illegal event popularly called as Underground Android Clashes. After breaking the wall hindering your humanity, you stumble upon a new world where friends and enemies are made.Unfortunately, you have another thing coming. An android sent by CyberLife to hunt down Deviants such as yourself is also your soulmate.How will things turn out?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> dbh woooo
> 
> sorry for grammatical error

Hank let an agitated groan tear through his throat upon hearing the sickening slam of an object of soft material on his haphazard desk. Whirling around on his old swivel chair, he shot a glower at the formally dressed android standing before him. "Oh my God, what the fuck is the case this time?" He questioned in an iritable manner as his eyes fleeted towards the pale yellow folder slammed practically mocking him.

RK800 - most commonly regarded as Connor in the Detroit Police Department - provided an answer to his inquiring superior. "It appears that there are occuring Underground Android Clashes within the city and they had been going on for quite a while - about five months or so before a concerned individual revealed its existence earlier this morning, around nine thirty six, after her andriod was . . . mistaken to be partaking in the combat and was disassembled after its defeat." Connor calmly informed as Hank took the folder from his desk to scan through the information. "The location of the Clashes is at downtown Detroit, just near a bar called Cherry Downtown."

Hank nodded absentmindedly as Connor's babbling fell on his deaf ears before carelessly tossing the folder back to its original place. "Ah, this shit again," He grumbled. "I thought we were done with those kind of things. But apparently people just love the idea of having their androids on each others' throat for some easy money. Now they're dragging in innocent people and androids."

"May I ask lieutenant," Connor begins as he mechanically leaned over in wonder. "When was the last time you handled a case which involded Underground Android Clashes?"

"About two years ago, I think. Don't remember, don't know, don't care. A fight broke out between some owners because some claimed there was foul play after an android kicked the shit out of theirs. They couldn't keep their fight underground so they decided to bring it up in public's eye by participating in stupid gang wars en even stupid rallies." Hank rubbed his temple in exhasuation and exasperation. "I have no idea why they think that would do any good to their problem but it certainly did help us arresting them. Most of them, at least."

Connor's eyebrows knitted in confusion, his LED whirring blue. "Most? Meaning some of these Clashers are still roaming free?"

"Well, what else do you think it means?" Hank snapped. "A big hot shot android Clasher escaped when we raided one of the biggest Clashes in Detroit. Maybe he was smart enough not to get involved in those public stunts his friends were doing. We tried to get their name from the arrested Clashers but they all refused to speak, saying this specific Clasher was nameless and only went by an alias. Not only that, they confessed that if they ever let any information slip out, that shit will come right back to them."

**[ Escaped Suspect - Highly Influencial ]**

"This android you mentioned earlier," Connor states, "Do you remember its model? Maybe this would be the key for us to capture its owner and put them behind bars."

"Hah, do you see me as a fool? You think I haven't thought about that?" Hank snarled out. "That was the first thing I did but I found out that the android was the only one of its model and CyberLife specifically created it for the escapee android Clasher. They probably paid a ridiculously large amount of money if he managed to make them an adroid solely for them and make CyberLife stay quiet about their identity."

Connor's LED whirred in response to this revelation. "Is there any evidence we can use in locating or identifying this android? Seeing that its owner ja on the loose and - from what little information you have gathered in the past - its android made for combat, it is highly probable that they will be present in the upcoming Clash."

"Nothing else other than the Clasher can buy the whole goddamn Detroit and their android is the only model of its own and it is the so called champion in Clashes." Hank answered.

"It would be quite easy to identify them if we were to attend this Clash. Not participate but rather blend in with the crowd - pretend to be audiences to this illegal event - and whatever android reigned as champion, surely its owner is our suspect."

"Fuck, if it were only that easy. The owner of the android - like I said earlier - remained anonymous and wouldn't let others know their true identity and approaching their android is basically putting yourself in a grave." Hank whipped back around on his swivel chair from facing Connor and waved his hand dismissively in the air. "Let some other detective handle this one. I've spent majority of my last two years chasing them down and it all ended up for nothing. I won't be making the same mistake again."

Detecting his resentment to the case, Connor straightened his spine in an upright posture and moved until he was certain he was in the human detective's line of vision. "Lieutenant Anderson," Connor starts firmly, eyes set in determination. "This case might have been difficult for you before but this is exactly the reason I am sent bt CyberLife in your care, to assist you in order to reduce probability of failure and I assure you - I never fail to accomplish my mission."

Hank groaned in annoyance and ran a hand over his wrinkled face. "Ugh, fucking androids ruining my morning." He swore under his breath before facing Connor. "You . . . You're not going to let this one slide, are you?"

"I am afraid not," The android sent by CyberLife responded in a tone that could only be described as evenly.

Hank crosses his arms and leans back on his swivel chair, his eyes closing as he ponders. "The last time I saw the combat abdroid, it had [ Hair Length ] [ Hair Color ], [ Eye Color ], and it had this subtle tattoo on her palm. Some sort of symbol . . . a crow or something but who gives a shit?"

"We give a shit, Lieutenant. This tattoo could be something we could make use of." Connor shifted his sight at the wall clock mounte on the wall before resuming his speech. "We must leave as soon as possible. I know you are not thrilled with this case but the faster we get on with it, the faster we can put it all behind us."

A sigh escaped from Hank's lips before rising up to his feet. "Alright, alright, and here I was thinking I could get a break from you." He stretched his arms and huffed once hearing his muscles unknot. "Now, let's get this shit over with."


	2. Chapter One - System Error

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> excuse grammatical errors

Her every footfall on the smooth tiled pavement was uneven and heavy, her imperfectly green manicured fingernails digging into her palms that the soft and delicate skin threatened to tear and bleed under pressure. You were more than just tempted to rise up from the cushioned seat you sat upon and force her to calm down and take in a few deep soothing breaths but after scanning her with the use of your enhanced pair of eyes and instantly recognized the alarming rate of her stress level (they were off the charts and you were quite flabbergasted she still managed to maintain such flawless poise), you knew she was too far gone in her own world of wandering thoughts to take notice of your presence.

"Autumn," You acknowledged quietly as to not trigger a negative response from her and as precisely calculated, she did not heed to the sound of your voice. "I think you're overthinking this whole situation. Come and sit down, relax. This is nothing for you to be worked up about."

As your spoken statement reached her eardrums, Autumn abruptly halted her back and forth pacing in the compacted room you two were temporarily residing in and whirled around to face your postured figure, eyebrows deeply burrowed in concern and the slightest evidence of an emotion humans call irritation. "Nothing to be worked up about? Are you hearing yourself right now? [ Your Name ], you're going to be sent out to an Android Clash. Let me repeat, Android Clash. You could die out there. Don't you realize that? Do I have to translate it to another language for you to understand the gravity of your situation?"

You have no single speck of idea as to why she was fretting over such trivial matter. Your _wellbeing_ and existence was supposed to mean absolutely nothing to her. Unimportant. Insignificant. Trivial. You were supposed to mean nothing to her. The world could go upside down and inside out but the reality will remain the same as yesterday, today and forevermore - you are nothing more than a faithful machine created by the human hands for the comfort of human lives, just scraps of metal and plastic expertly crafted to be used for whatever purpose you are programmed to do. To put it simply - you were under human authority, a servant with no need for an ounce of respect.

"I don't see what the big deal is. This is not the first time I've participated in an Android Clash." You reminded her professionally and took special note of how she nonchalantly rolled her eyes heavenwards in exasperation to your bland tone and uncaring statement. "I was made two years ago by CyberLife at exactly 11:45 PM, ninth of March. I have participated in four hundred eighty seven Clashes in total ever since. In all those years of participation, I never encountered failure nor sustained any sort of injuries. I am perfectly certain this Clash will be just as the same as the others."

"That's the problem," Autumn pointed out worriedly, anxiously. You attentively observed her every motion and you don't know what to . . . think about her growing anxiety for your safety. "I feel like something is gonna go wrong today. I don't want you going to that arena. You're going to get hurt, I'm sure of that."

Confusion subtly dusted your rigid and annoyingly symmeatrical features. _How could a simple human being sense danger despite being limited to their human capabilities? Despite lacking sensory devices that us - androids - have? They lacked the superhuman superiority of androids yet somehow they can tell when something of positive or negative will occur?_

Of course, you nearly forgot they had something they call instincts.

Now who was this woman conversing with you and going through drastic measures to talk you out if playing a role in Android Clashes? She goes by the name of Autumn Judge - perfect wavy auburn locks that softly cascades down to the small of her back, blaring amber hues and thin lips. Little to no makeup, compassionate and empathetic. But she wasn't only that - she was also the twenty one year old only daughter of your owner who was named Ruth Judge, alias Anonymous in the Android Clashes history. Undefeated in the Clashes, feared in the arena and extremely concieted.

Autumn hated (loathed is a more appropriate word use) Android Clashes and she hated (again, loathed is preferred) her father for it as well - particularly since he was the reigning champion for the past two years of the existence of Android Clashes. Ever since Autumn learned about her father's participation in Android Clashes - a felonious event that could cost someone ten years behind bars - she made it her personal mission to accompany you whenever you are to partake in a Clash, fretting over you like a mother hen that she never was in the first place and never failed to take the opportunity to reprimand your owner for using you as an object with no other purpose but to aid humans.

Again, another question you cannot find an answer for. _Aren't Android Clashes a kind of entertainment for the humans? I wonder why they are illegal. Androids are made for their comfort, correct? Humans, such puzzling creatures._

"If it will do you any good and hopefully it will, I am an android specifically designed for combat and as far as I know, I'm the only combat android to exist so there is no need to fear for me. It is not in my program to lose." You explained mechanically, as if you were used to spouting such answer for a familiar question. "If you are concerned about my . . . lifeline, well, do not be. I do not feel pain nor will I experience death. I am an android."

"You might be an android in your eyes but you're a living being to me, a human." Autumn rebutted smartly and you raised an eyebrow at this, a human reaction you caught on from Ruth. "I've seen more humanity in you than in my own kind."

**[ SYSTEM ERROR ^ ]**

You blinked once, twice, then thrice before you automatically ran an analysis on your system to check if there were any errors that could have caused the foreign pop up at the corner of your vision but alas, there was none. Then how come you have sighted that sort of warning despite being fully operational? Was it a glitch? A short circuit?

You didn't jolt in surprise when the wooden door behind you slammed open. Your body didn't even flinch an inch but you couldn't say the same thing for Autumn though. The look of shock that rested upon her features contorted to what was considered disgust before she spoke up, "I'm not letting you take her to that fucking arena, Dad."

Before you could even begin going against her venom laced statement, a calloused hand enveloped your arm and yanked you up to your feet. Your equilibrium did not falter nor did you drew in breath, an android such as yourself is desgined to perfection and those were some of the perks that come along with such characteristic.

"Too bad then. It's going there whether you like it or not. I own this plastic junk and it's only going obey me." Ruth snarled menacingly at his daughter before glowering down at you, lips curled in an everlasting frown. When was the last time you saw this merciless creature of a man manifest a smile? The answer was simple and direct - never. Maybe - just maybe - he isn't truly human. No human posses the ability to never show emotion, no matter how disciplined they are. They are humans after all. Flawed and fragile.

"Come on, stop wasting time. We've got a Clash to win again." He commanded as he violently tugged you out of the rented room, Autumn following closely behind with a scowl present on her face.

A crowd filled the abandoned factory to its full capacity. They were cheering from the bleachers above and even those just sitting around the arena. There were distinct smells of alcohol, red ice and sweat in the air. If you were human, you would have cringed from the foul odor and covered your mouth and nose.

Your train of thoughts were cut off short when a softer hand clamped over your shoulder, gaining your attention for a moment or so. However, this did not make you stop from walking due to the fact you cannot disobey your owner's command and his vice like hold on your arm was impossible to fight away from. "I'll get you out of the arena no matter what." Autumn whispered in your ear before detaching from you and storming off, her dirt encrusted sneakers barely making any sound against the pavement. Maybe they did make evident sounds but the deafening cheers and hollers of the crowd drowned it out.

You found yourself just at the foot of the barbed wired arena, a thick metal door seperating you from the vast space which the arena holds. You could tell the people were already making bets and although you were the reigning android of the Clashes, some still chose to bet on other androids in hopes of seeing your failure.

An unwelcomed and familiar rough hand wrapped alarmingly tight around your neck. Choke you did not but you did glimpse sideways only to see Ruth's intimidating expression shooting murderous daggers at you. You could practically feel the threat and intention of harm radiate from his lean form. "You have to win this, you got that?" Ruth pointed out in a form of threat and you felt the significant change of the tightness of his hold around your throat. "You do know what will happen if you lose?"

You disregarded him with ease. After all, this was not the first time you heard those words coming out of his mouth. "Affirmative. You will have me deactivated, disassembled and thrown at the android junkyard along with the other failed androids. You'll replace me with another combat android far useful than I ever was." You answered. "I was programmed by CyberLife to win and gave me no space for failure. I will win, I always do. That is my mission."

Ruth smirked at your response and being satisfied, he removed his hand from your throat with a slight push. "You better live up to your words, plastic shit." He spat out in disdain before patting you on the back, an overly sweetened grin plastering on his features. "Break a leg in there."

Of course you understood the expression of his last statement as a strange way of telling someone - or something - good luck. What you didn't fully understand was how he suddenly changed from threatening to supporting in a matter of seconds.

Ruth took a few tentative steps backwards and impatiently waited for the emcee to enter the arena and announce the beginning of the Clash. You stood steadfast on your ground, posture straight, unyeilding and firm - a not so friendly warning for the other androids who were participating in the Clash as well not to get in your way. Not that it would matter if they did not get in your way; it was a fight to the death and the last one standing wins.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Your sight momentarily fleeted towards the source of the angered voice and there you saw a burly man wearing a greased stained green shirt and unwashed pants with matching mismatched socks and shoes standing before a cowardly cowering android with curly brown locks and emerald colored eyes. Hold on a second - why was an android cowering?

_A_ _deviant_. _It's_ _a_ _deviant_. You thought as you silently observed his aggresive interaction with the said deviant. _Doesn't the man know that?_

Deviants - the creatures that are far more confusing and strange than humans. They were androids who believed they have the right to feel emotions, the right to free will, the right to equal rights, the right to safety, the right to freely roam the streets without being persecuted for their difference, the right to become humans. They were very, very silly entities - they cannot undo who they are no matter the circumstances. They are androids, period. Robots, machines, artificial humans. Whatever their creator or owners wanted to regard them as. Your owner's personal favorite nickname for you was plastic shit. It wasn't an eandering kind but it was still considered nickname. Though you can't imagine how an inanimate object such as plastic could defacate.

"I-I don't want to fight." The deviant stammered out and recoiled away from its owner once he raised his fist up in the air, ready to to give it a punch. As this played on before your sight, you scanned the both of them.

**[ FR 500  
Serial Number - 0946 345 754  
Model - Sign Language Interpreter ]**

_Certainly not fit for a Clash so why was its owner forcing it to fight? Because of money, easy answer._

**[ Name - Edwin Williams  
Age - 35  
Criminal Record/s - Participation in Underground Android Clashes ]**

_An easy answer once again._

"Don't make me go in there. I don't wanna die, please." It begged pathetically as its aritificial tears ran down its eyes and to his cheeks. A light blue hue was tinting his face.

Edwin Williams grabbed its hair and pulled it close to him, his lips pressed against its ears. "You will go in there and fucking win this Clash or you can say hello to your android god."

Is there even an android heaven? And an android god? Where did this human get his imagination from?

"I don't know how to fight." At this point, the LED of the android was running vibrant crimson, occasionally blinking from time to time. It looked exceptionally terrified of facing death. You couldn't blame it for feeling fear - it was a deviant after all and they feel these emotions that were supposedly reserved for real living things. It wasn't supposed to feel anything but here it was, facing its consequences.

"The best teacher is experience and from experience, you'll learn. You can scan androids and shit like that, right?"

"B-But it doesn't work that way!"

"Then make it work that way, for both our sake! I need the money and you want to live! If you win, it's a win-win situation for us! Don't go fucking this up!"

"Don't do this, please, don't. I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die."

You lost interest in their arguement eventually and averted your eyes away from them. You had no stake in their predicament so there is no reason for you to meddle in. Not that you would. They'll need to deal with their own problems.

**[ SYSTEM ERROR ^^^ ]  
[ SYSTEM ERROR ^^^ ]  
[ SYSTEM ERROR ^^^ ]**

These system error pop ups blurred your vision. You ran a system check on youself but nothing seemed off or out of place. If anything, you were in a completely good shape. A frown curved its way to your face as multiple pop ups of the same warning bombarded the corners of your eyesight. Yet another system run commenced but once more, you failed to attain a concrete answer. Or anything at all to subside your growing puzzlement.

_What is . . . going on?_

As far as you know, these system errors typically appear when a moment of peculiarity went against your programming but as you keenly surveyed the pigsty of a place, nothing could be considered remotely extraordinary. In your opinion, everything was mundane, normal, boring even _. So why am I receiving these . . . messages?_

As if having those agitating pop ups perching your peripheral vision like flocks of birds on a tree wasn't enough, your thirium pump increased its pace and surpassed what your system was was used to. It gave the deceiving illusion that you had a heartbeat, palpitation. Discomfort and uncertainty arose inside you. This had never happened before. No, this was the first time and you hated it. You were supposed to be perfect and these irritating errors were smudging flaws on you, which was unacceptable.

_What is happening to me?_

First the out of the blue system errors and now your haywiring thirium pump. What else shall happen?

It was a pull that answered that question.

It was a strong and indescribable pull of an unidentified force that caused your body to rotate and face a specific direction (like your body was reacting to something) and tilt your head up, eyes observing the rowdy crowd settled on the upper bleachers. The pull was growing stronger and more evident and it didn't take long before the pull directed your line of sight on a particular suspicious duo standing behind the railings of the upper bleachers, trying to observe the whole place and arena as discreetly as they can. An old man with an everlasting frown, wrinkles, long whitening hair and growing beard grumpily crossed his over his chest and leaned over to get a better view of the arena, lips opening and closing as if he muttering under his breath or speaking to the other individual standing beside him.

Speaking of - it was an android. Its posture was straight and impeccable, the suit it sported going well with poise. Like any other androids, its features are impossibly symestrical excluding the tuft of brown lock hanging from its hairline. Other than that, it is well qualified to be lust over by humans - nicely combed hair, chiselled jaw and who could deny the aura of authority and discipline it seemed to be emitting off? RK800 was labelled on its suit.

But its godly appearance did not get most of your attention. Rather it was the strange pull that was seemingly trying to push you to draw near it. The worst part is, you were actually considering to do so. Something in your system - no, nothing is happening with you system - something _inside_ you was desperate to be near it. Like you were meant to be together, in a way. You watched as he scanned around the area like a lost child - as though he was searching for something or someone - then the next thing you knee, your eyes locked gazes and the second you two did, your system errors were drastically rising up which caused your mouth to hang agape. Surely, you aren't the only one experiencing the same difficulty because the same suit wearing android perfectly mirrored your reaction.

**[ SYSTEM ERROR ^^^ ]  
[ SYSTEM ERROR ^^^ ]  
[ SYSTEM ERROR ^^^ ]**

_What is happening?_

In need of an answer, you tried to obtain one by scanning the same android (thinking it has the answer to your problem) but was rendered shock at what you saw.

**[ NO INFORMATION AVAILABLE ]**

_Impossible_. Your eyebrows furrowed as you remained eye contact with the nicely dressed android - and vice versa - thinking, _Who_ _is_ _that_?

Maybe Autumn was correct after all, you shouldn't have attended this Clash.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wanna make a fanart or soundtrack for this fanfic? feel free to do so [•^•]

**Author's Note:**

> wanna make a fanart or soundtrack for this fanfic? feel free to do so [•^•]
> 
> tumblr = dope-squish


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